Exorcizamus
by Lady-Beau
Summary: Two extremely powerful beings, have Dumbledore and The Order shaking in their boots. One's really tall, the others really cute. They're the new guardians at Hogwarts. Their names, are Sam and Dean Winchester.
1. Chapter 1

**Exorcizamus**

_Song of the chapter Speaking in Tongues-Eagles of Death Metal._

**So this is a crossover of Supernatural and Harry Potter. This is my favourite type of SPN x-over, there aren't enough out there we need more! This story starts just after "Family Remains" ends, literally. After Dean's sinister confession, the boys head to a nearby motel. Dean leaves Sam alone for a while, cause well yeah, and watch the episode and you'll understand. Anyhow I hope you enjoy the story. (This first bit is a bit Angst! Dean, so you don't have to read it. =]) This is sort of a prologue, a taster if you will. If you like the look of it please review and I'll write moar!!!**

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Dean couldn't quite work out whether telling Sam was a good thing. Sure, he could have carried around the fact that he loved ripping defenceless souls to shreds. But after ribbing Sam about going "Dark Side" and lying to his face about it, well, it would be hypocritical to say the least. His heart had turned cold when he realised that, maybe he had tortured that poor families son. The boy who only died in a car crash, too young to die. To find himself at the merciless shredding, of a near demonic Dean Winchester, in the fiery pits. It turned his stomach over that he could have torn apart a grieving families son, and _loved_ it. Dean could feel himself slipping farther and farther away from any human conscience, every second he was there he felt a roaring presence just aching to take over. Something held it back, the only thing that could have ever kept Dean human.

Sam.

The faintest memory of Sam drove It back. It was repelled by Dean's love for his little brother. Not even the pit could take away his deep-seated vigil of look after Sammy. Dean feared that without him there, he would have given up and jumped off that rack in the first day. Sam didn't quite know it but he was Deans anchor in the human world now, without him there he would collapse into himself and It would take over. That was something that Dean was desperately trying to avoid.

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The seedy bar was unlucky enough to be graced by Dean's agitated presence. The hunter was hunched over, nursing a half-full beer bottle. His devastatingly green eyes were boring holes in the bar-top. He took a swift swig and carefully placed the bottle back to the bar, sliding a 2-dollar bill beside it. He deftly swung the distressed, dark-brown leather jacket over his wide sloping shoulders, and slipped quietly from the bar.

The crisp, clean air cut through Dean's lungs, as he whispered his way along cracked pavements. Not really knowing where he was going, he let his feet lead to wherever they felt like taking him. Past busy shop windows, take-aways and betting shops. Snapping himself out of his musings, he noticed a group of oddly dressed people walking quickly up ahead. Dean fought the urge to yell that Halloween was still, a few months away but resisted. Dean could tell that something was off. The way they walked suggested that they were in a hurry, and didn't want to be seen. They veered off into a dark alleyway, momentarily disappearing from sight. Dean quickly caught up, curiosity piqued. There were about five in all, all of them wearing some kind of deeply coloured robe. They talked in low, hurried voices. Dean hid in the shadow of a large dumpster, not really wanting to be seen.

After a few minutes, they broke their tight group. One of them, a short man with thinning red hair stood back from the group. He made a popping sound. Then he vanished. No trace of him left behind.

Dean was astounded. This was like nothing he had ever seen before, he watched while three more popped and disappeared. He ran through his mental encyclopaedia of the supernatural, trying to find something that fit these…well… _people?_

Dean waited until there was only one person left. She was a tall woman, with a long, dark green, velvet robe. Taking his 45. Out of his jeans waistband he leapt from behind the dustbin.

"You! Don't move!"

The woman whipped around holding a long stick in her hand. A nagging fear, at the back of Dean's head told him that it was just as dangerous as his gun.

"Who are you boy?" A cold Scottish accent pierced the taught air.

"I guess I could ask you the same question, with you and your cronies vanishing into thin air." The woman's stern face, tightened even more. She eyed his gun suspiciously, as if trying to work out what it was. Stepping towards Dean, she lifted her stick to chest height. Dean reacted by cocking the gun, and aiming it right between her eyes.

"My name is Minerva McGonagald. You would do well to show me respect muggle." Though not really understanding the meaning of the word, Dean got the feeling that he had just been insulted.

"Dean Winchester. You, better hold your tongue _witch_." He was grabbing at straws, he took a wild guess that seemed to have hit home. A vein in her aged forehead pulsed.

"_Obliviate_!"

The flash of light soared towards Dean, who didn't know what on earth was going on. In a vain attempt to control the situation, he shot at the little ball of light. It did little to its current course, and slammed into Dean's chest. A ripple of light skimmed over Dean's body, sinking into through his clothes and into his skin. It felt as though a cold tap had started running through him, trickling it's way around his body. He felt empowered, strong, and a little angry. He straightened himself out, staring darkly at Minerva.

"That wasn't very nice."

He swung his 45. to chest height, and fired off a single bullet.

But McGonagald was gone, before he even pulled the trigger.

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**So what do you think? Love it? Hate it? Review and let me know!!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Exorcizamus**

_Song of the chapter: Fight Song – The Republic Tigers_

**Hehe a small disclaimer I forgot before:**

**I don't own Supernatural, if I did Sam and Dean would be topless. Period. Neither do I own Harry Potter; if I did I would own half the world and have designated sleeping days. They belong to Eric Kripke and J.K Rowling respectively.**

**On with the show!!!!**

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"Sam, I'm telling you. I'm not crazy!"

"I know Dean, but come on. Scottish?"

"Yes, Sam. Scottish." Dean ran a calloused hand over his face in exasperation. After his questionable meeting with the Scottish Psycho, Dean had high-tailed it back to their shabby apartment. Sam was waiting patiently, with his laptop for Dean's return. He expected the aforementioned brother to stumble in at some ungodly hour, smelling of beer and sex. What he didn't expect however, was Dean to come barging in at 10:30 spluttering some crazy story about popping people. Also the crazy psycho Scottish lady, oh yes, her. Dean had slammed through their motel door, swearing blind that she shot him with a beam of light. Sam was starting to wonder if Dean had had one to many, but his breath wasn't laden with the smell of downed beers.

"I was at this bar, and I decided to go for a walk round town. Ran into a group of weird looking people, and decided to follow them."

Dean made chopping movements with his arms, indicating time, and place.

"They all started disappearing, so I got my gun out and stopped one of them. She said her name was Muc-gornaguld or something stupid like that."

He began pacing like a caged tiger, uneasy with their current predicament. Sam just sat there, in the uncomfortable motel chair, thrumming his fingers against his laptop.

He was researching into their next job, trying to find any supernatural indications anywhere in the US. So far his list came up with none. Sam was partially annoyed, and largely relieved. Over the past months or so, Dean had thrown them both into jobs one after another. Salt'n'burn. Back to the motel. Sammy! Get researching. Next morning, bam. They're off to some decrepit town 3 states away. Sam didn't think that he had gotten decent nights sleep, for about a year and a half now. With Dean back, his crippling insomnia disappeared like dust in the wind. He was revelling in every second he had, with his older brother.

Sammy wasn't annoyed at Dean, no, he could never be. He was relieved for Dean. He was stretching himself so thin; his newly rejuvenated body was showing signs of wear and tear. Sam had grown used to the long days and nights, but Dean had been out of commission for the past 40 years. He wasn't suggesting that Dean had had it easy, not by a long shot. When Dean had finally come clean about his time in hell, Sam had been mortified. He had idolised Dean even more, being able to hold out for so long. But being back in his body, Sam would have thought he would have needed a well-deserved vacation. But Dean always was a stubborn mule, and had thrown himself into every job that had had the slightest relation to the supernatural.

"Muc-gornaguld?"

"Yeah, Sam. Don't mock me." Sam held up his defined forearms, in a peace offering.

"I was doing no such thing."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean sighed heavily, and flopped down on the too-hard motel bed, defeated. Sam watched with mild concern, flipping through the profiles of all the supernatural beings they had fought. Finding a link between the two wasn't easy.

"She didn't like being called a witch." Dean stated matter-of-factly. He made some sort of Frisbee throwing motion, but with his forearm facing upwards. "She waved this twig at me, and said Oblivate, or something similar."

"She what?" Sam was listening intently. He knew a Latin word when he heard one. This one sounded like _oblivisci._ Which in Sam's freaky knowledge database, translated to forget.

"Dean that sounds like the Latin for forget, you sure you remember everything?"

"Ya, clear as a bell. Even how many traffic lights I went through to get back here."

"Which was?"

"Five." Sam nodded, satisfied. He snapped his laptop shut, and slid it into his leather satchel. He got up, and walked over to the foot of dean's bed. He opened up a large dark green duffle bag, and started rifling through it.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Dean lifted his head and looked down his chest at Sam, who was lifting a torn and tattered book, from the spacey duffle bag.

"Adding extra protection, seeing as we don't want Muc-grumpy calling at 3 in the morning, when you're trying to get your much-needed beauty sleep." Sam smirked slightly at Deans affronted look.

"Bite me."

**BAM!**

The small motel window shuddered, in its weak wooden frame. It only took a fraction of a second, for Sam and Dean to grab a knife and a gun respectively. Another fraction had them stood in front of the motel door, weapons trained on the fake oak panelling. They cast weary glances at each other, before Dean crept forward and reached for the handle. Snapping the door open, he aimed his gun left, then right. But no one was there. He lowered his gun slightly, berating himself for being too paranoid.

He was turning his head to say the 'all clear', when a feathery mass careened into the side of his head with such force; he lost balance and stumbled back through the doorway. Sam folded his 6'5 frame to get out its path, as it rocketed its way into their motel room.

Dean righted himself and looked around wildly, trying to locate his assaulter. The feathery cannonball was actually, a small barn owl. Which, (after it's rather ungraceful entrance) sat regally on top of the decades old T.V, preening itself as if to say "None of that ever happened." Strapped to its leg, was a thick-papered envelope. Sam cautiously inched forward, trying not to scare the animal.

"Sam, wait a sec, this thing nearly took my head off…"

"It's addressed to you Dean."

"…" Dean stalked forward to untied the offending envelope off the owls leg, which it stuck out parallel to the floor to make Deans job easier. Raising an eyebrow, he deftly untied the string and read the address. Which was written in flowing, loopy writing.

"Well," he croaked, "they're a stickler for details." He tilted the yellowing paper towards where Sam was standing, the still wet ink glistening under the harsh lights.

Dean Winchester

Room 14

Sunset View Motel

Stratton

Nebraska

"You told the Scottish-Psycho your real name?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably "Maybe." Sam rolled his eyes; he grabbed the letter from Dean's hand and proceeded with opening it. He broke through the heavy, red wax seal and pulled out the contents.

"This is written on parchment Dean."

"And I need to know because…?"

"You don't, it's just that no one uses parchment anymore. It's heavy-duty stuff as well, it ways a tonne."

He opened the letter and began to read:

_Dear Mr. Winchester,_

_I am aware that you met a fellow colleague of mine tonight, named Minerva McGonagald. The series of events that have unfolded are of great interest to me, as the magic used upon you seemed to have no effect. I apologise if Minerva came across as harsh, but these are hard times for our community. If it is at all possible, I would like to come and meet you, as soon as you write me back a reply. As I have already stressed, these events have caused us great consternation. Please send the owl back with your reply as soon as possible._

_Best Regards_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

"Aren't you mister popular?" Sam chuckled slightly, handing the letter to a dumbstruck Dean. Who read the letter several more times.

"Its not often that I get call Mr. Winchester."

"Make you feel important?"

"No, it makes me feel fifty." Dean ran a calloused hand, through his ash blonde hair.

"Right, Mr. Dumbledore wants a reply, by owl post. _Seriously?_" Getting a notepad and pen, Dean began writing his response. Once he was done, he rolled it up and strapped it to the owl's leg. Flapping its wings madly, it launched itself off the T.V and disappeared out the door. Dean started, and ran around picking up everything that was Sam's and putting it into his bag.

"Dean! What are you doing?"

"They don't know about you, they _can't_ know about you. So we gotta hide your stuff haven't we?" Sam complied, and started gathering up his meagre belongings.

"Dean, we ordered a twin bed room." Halting in his frantic packing, Dean shivered slightly.

"Sam, get in the bathroom."

"What? Dean why…"

"Just do it Sam, I can feel him coming!" After shoving a startled Sam into the tiny bathroom, Dean set about arming himself. A small whirling sensation in his stomach intensified, he knew Dumbledore was nearly there. He grabbed his sawn off, and his pistol, and stood facing the door. Both guns trained to head height. Popping noises filled the room, as an old man, with a shockingly white beard appeared before Dean.

"Aha, Dean Winchester I presume. I, am Albus Dumbledore."

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**Love it? Hate it? Review and let me know!!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Exorcizamus**

_Song of the chapter: In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida – Iron Butterfly_

**Hehe a small disclaimer I forgot before:**

**I don't own Supernatural, if I did Sam and Dean would be topless. Period. Neither do I own Harry Potter; if I did I would own half the world and have designated sleeping days. They belong to Eric Kripke and J.K Rowling respectively.**

**On with the show!!!!**

**This chap is very short, for which I apologise. But it's kind of necessary, so you might want to read it !!**

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_30 years ago, Lawrence, Kansas._

The 6 month-old Dean Winchester, lay sound asleep in his crib. The sun-shaped nightlight, gave out a soft red light that radiated off Dean's chubby baby cheeks. Even at 6 months old, he was something to look at. His wispy blonde hair was standing up at odd angles, white lashes curled up delicately, twitching slightly as he dreamed. Wide, sparkling green eyes running underneath his lids, chasing the birds in his head. A pouting mouth hanging open, a thin line of drool glinting in the silver moonlight.

Everything was quiet, his cartoon clock quietly tick-tocking away the seconds. Outside in the hall, the light started to flicker. The nightlight stuttered. The crib mobile started twirling, and singing.

On the other side of the house, John and Mary Winchester lay sleeping, unaware of their faulty lighting.

A figure appeared, in the rocking chair at the head of Dean's crib. A hand softly stroked Dean's white-blonde hair, cooing lightly. A pair of yellow-eyes glinted, in the still flickering nightlight.

"Hey there Deano. My, my you've sure grown." Azazel whispered, still stroking his head.

"I promised your momma I'd be here, told her I'd swing by. Pity she isn't awake though, she would have enjoyed the show I'm sure."

Chuckling to himself slightly, he got up off his silently rocking chair and leaned over the crib. He had made a good choice; the boy was strong, in more ways than one. Him and his brother, who'd have thunk?

Running a knife across his wrist, Azazel let the blood well. Then he opened little Dean's mouth, and let the blood pour down his throat.

"Your gonna grow up to be a big strong boy, Dean. You 'nd your brother, when he comes along that is. There ain't nothing that's gonna stop you two when your rolling. Good job to, with the way this worlds going to go."

Pouring power behind his words, Azazel lowered his lips to Deans small ear and said,

"Look after your brother boy."

And with that, the hall light stopped flickering. The nightlight righted itself.

And the mobile stopped singing.

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**Please review, I love to know what you guys think!!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Exorcizamus**

_Song of the chapter: In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida – Iron Butterfly_

**Hehe a small disclaimer I forgot before:**

**I don't own Supernatural, if I did Sam and Dean would be topless. Period. Neither do I own Harry Potter; if I did I would own half the world and have designated sleeping days. They belong to Eric Kripke and J.K Rowling respectively.**

**On with the show!!!!**

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Keeping his guns high, Dean narrowed his eyes at the man who was now stumbling towards a chair. The presence of power the man so proudly wore around himself, was slowly slipping the longer Dean kept his murderous stare trained. He was trying, and failing to keep his alcohol charged emotions under control. Dumbledore's eyes shone brilliantly, crescent glasses perching precariously on his crooked nose.

"So..." Dumbledore started shakily "your not alone Dean."

Dean whipped around to find Sam not a foot from him; he stood up to his full height. Which was (when one was as large as he) frankly, quite intimidating, even to Dean. Shooting him a look that screamed you-are-so-dead-later, he panned back to the man who was now quivering on the plastic motel chair.

"So what if I'm not?" He growled, pointedly looking down the sights of his guns.

"Well, there being two of you wasn't mentioned by Professor McGonagald." He muttered, supposedly to himself.

"Oh really, wasn't it?" Dean spat in a voice dripping with contempt. Shooting a told-you-so glance at Sam, he continued on, waving his guns threateningly at Dumbledore.

"Why don't you give me one good reason not to send your ass to the moon, in the next five sec…" He felt himself fall to the floor, without really realising how he got there. Gathering his thoughts, he found Sam's gargantuan frame sprawled on top of Dumbledore. His face contorted with rage, he growled menacingly at him, a mere inch from the old mans pale, shaking face.

"You pull anything like that again, and I swear you'll find yourself in the afterlife before you can say 'Agogo', comprende?" Sam growled with an animosity, which was usually reserved for heated arguments about Lilith. Standing up slowly, the elder Winchester swayed a bit, gathered his thoughts, and snapped back to the task at hand. Dean dusted himself off, and trained his guns at the man once more.

"Now, you don't seem like a man with much common sense. So why don't I say this in Layman's terms. You shut up. You don't move. And you answer only when spoken to. Then I think you'll find we are most co-operative." Dumbledore nodded his head slowly, as if trying not to enrage Sam further. Who was still seething quietly, breathing over Dean's right arm.

"I must ask something first." Sitting slowly onto the squeaky chair, Dumbledore stroked his beard. "Are you Demons?" Dean flinched slightly, as flashes of hell flitted before his eyes. "No, we aren't" He ground out, not meeting Dumbledore's eyes. Sam shifted uncomfortably, crossing his tanned arms over his chest. "We _hunt _the supernatural, _Dumbledore._" Dean added in an attempt to be civil with the popping man. He seemed to visibly sink into the chair with happiness.

"We couldn't be sure, you see. As demons posses humans…"

"Yes, we know. We do this job on a day-to-day basis." Dean growled, a little impatiently. Dumbledore's icy, blue eyes twinkled, madly.

"Well if you couldn't guess, we wizards don't have the first clue about them." Dean's eyes flashed, and pointed his lax gun arm straight between Dumbledore's eyes.

"I. Hate. Witches. Scheming, bloodthirsty, dirty, whore-"

"I _assure_ you, Mr Winchester, that the witches you have met are very different to the witches I am fortunate enough to know. I'm guessing the ones you know; dabble in blood magiks, not knowing what they are doing. Am I correct?"

"Yes. I guess you are. Still doesn't mean we trust you."

"No, I guess it doesn't." The bright, twinkling eyes bore into Deans. Who felt something feather light, brush at his mind. Then, immediately disappear. Dumbledore's face was contorted in concentration, looking straight into Dean. Which, needless to say, made said Winchester a tad uncomfortable.

"You don't need the bathroom do you?" he asked sceptically. The old man snapped out of his intense gaze, as if waking up.

"No, my dear boy, not at all." He cracked a smile that seemed to split his face.

"So, Mr. Dumbledore…" Sam started.

"Albus. Please call me Albus." Sam nodded, only to add, to Dean's horror;

"Then you can call me Sam. Sorry, about earlier, I had to make sure you weren't about to kill us" He grinned sheepishly, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"An honour to meet you, Sam. Not to worry, your protection over your friend is most admirable." Dean grabbed Sam's arm in a vice-like grip, and steered him towards the kitchenette. Completely ignoring Dumbledore, who had quite happily started sucking on some lemon drops.

"Can you explain to me, why, in a momentary burst of insanity, you decided to tell the old coot your name?!" Sam looked a little taken aback.

"I dunno. I just feel like I can trust him, I can't really explain it." Dean ran a hand through his hair, not quite sure what to say.

"Even when he told us he was a wizard?" He didn't want to say it, but something was telling him that this strange…_wizard_…was good.

"Dude you know as well as I do, _our_ kind of wizards don't exist."

"What do you classify as _our kind_ Sam?!"

"Well, have any of the witches we've been up against been able to pop out of thin air? Or shoot beams of light at you that don't seem to do anything?" Dean say something flash across Sam's pleading face.

"He shot you too?!" All thoughts of the old badger being good were quickly stamped out.

"You seem to be exclaiming a lot, I'm sure Albus can…"

"Screw Albus, he shot you with…the…light-thingy!" Dean spluttered. Realising how out of the norm that sounded, even for them. Still torn between the persistent tugging sensation telling him to trust, and the over-protective-brother telling him to kill, Dean Winchester was at a loss for what to do. Not wanting to fight anymore, he sighed in resignation.

"Look, I got the…feeling…to, ok? I don't know what to make of it. Since McGurney shot me with fairy dust, I could…I dunno…feel things. I don't know whether this is good or bad, but now you've been Tinkerbelled too, I think we should ask this…Dumbledore" He said the name slowly, as if surprised the word was coming out of his mouth, "if he knows what's going on." He started pacing on the sticky, vinyl tiles, running his hands through his bristled hair. Sam leaned his muscular framed against the work-top, heaving a sigh. When would things be relatively normal? Where Witches stayed witches, and popping men didn't shoot you with light beams?

"If this mojo if magical, then maybe this guy could help us. For all we know we could be turning into frogs " He shrugged awkwardly, trying to appease the tense air. Dean snorted,

"Hmm, maybe your right Sammy, maybe your right."

"What d'you mean? I'm always right." Dean coughed forcefully, sounding an awful lot like 'in your dreams'. Taking that as a go, Sam strode purposefully back towards the robed man, who was happily sucking on the sour, yellow sweets. Dean followed soon after, still not having relinquished his grip on the guns.

"Now then, Albus…" Sam had started to say.

"Do you know of the demon known as Lilith?" Dumbledore fired, cutting Sams sentence in half. Sam stood straighter, and flashed a look at Dean.

"What of her?" Dean barely whispered. Dumbledore took another sweet, and popped it in his mouth.

"My sources tell me, that an infamous Dark Wizard in England has made, a somewhat tentative agreement with her." Sam groaned, his relatively normal was just sent packing. A Dark Wizard and Lilith teaming up? In England? This meant only one thing. That the breaking of the seals was now, officially worldwide. How freaking fantastic is that?

"Wait, Dark Wizard? And I thought my days couldn't get any worse…" Dean face palmed spectacularly, and sat down heavily on the lumpy bed.

"So, you know of her then?"

"Oh, we know of her alright." Sam glowered, giving the innocent clock on the adjacent wall murderous stares.

"She's the demon we are trying to stop at the moment. With a company of the heavenly host of course." Dean commented sarcastically, not really believing how downhill his day was going. Albus' eyebrow cocked upwards.

"Angels you say? My, my, she must be a handful."

"Pfft, you don't know the half of it." Sam said darkly. "We've managed to send most of her minions back to hell, but they just seem to multiply like rabbits." Albus nodded sagely, stroking his snow-white beard.

"Our Dark Wizard goes by the name of Lord Voldemort." Sam quickly translated this to 'flight of death'. Great, just what he and Dean needed. Another psycho, hell bent on the apocalypse." His original name is Tom Riddle, he went to my school, Hogwarts. Oh, if only I had seen it sooner." He let out a sad sigh. "He has turned dark, so very dark, that he is no longer even human I daresay. His body, so addled with dark magic now resembles that of a snake."

Dean cringed slightly at the mental image he was seeing. "He has a legion of followers called his Death Eaters. They murder, burn and torture everything their Lord tells them to. He was been in a reign of terror for nearly 2 decades, and doesn't show any sign of slowing up. In fact quite the opposite, he seems to be gaining momentum." He popped another lemon drop in his mouth with practiced ease.

"Sound familiar?" Sam asked Dean quietly, seeing a pattern between the two. Dean didn't reply, he just kept staring at the floor. Thinking hard.

"Nearly 15 years ago, a prophecy was made. This prophecy stated that soon, a child would be born with the power to kill Voldemort. _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...._ One of his Death Eaters managed to overhear only the first half of the prophecy, before he got caught. This only gave them the rough time this saviour was to be born." Sam and Dean shot sceptical looks to each other but nodded for Albus to continue.

"Two children, Neville Longbottom, and Harry Potter were born at this time. Their parents had both contributed heavily to the war against him. So on Halloween Voldemort came to the Potters and killed them. But he couldn't kill Harry, their son. Due to ancient blood magics laid down by his mother." Dean could almost predict where the story went from here.

"So now this Potter kid, has been marked as his equal has he? And he's the only one who can defeat him?" Dumbledore nodded serenly.

"No pressure then, I guess we can relate." Silence passed over the room, as Sam's mind started churning out questions.

"We have had one outbreak. Where we think demons were involved, as our normal curses didn't seem to have an effect of them." Sam nodded in agreement.

"Demons, take control of their host body. But they aren't affected by it, if the demon kills the body they are possessing, it can still keep it alive in a way. Like a puppet, so when the demon leaves…"

"…The person is dead for good. That would explain why curses were having no effect of them. Voldemort now has and army of nearly invincible soldiers, and we have no way of stopping them." Albus sunk lower into his chair, looking utterly defeated.

"Your telling me you don't know how to fight a demon?!" Sam asked incredulously.

"Well, no. There are some obscure books, but the Ministry has found the idea so outrageous they have banned them! Minister Fudge cannot see to reason, he doesn't understand what we are up against." Albus looked up quickly, a slow smile forming over his face.

"But you do." Dean could immediately see where this was going.

"NO. No, no, no, we are not traipsing around the wor…"

"Yes, we will Dean. Don't you see? Lilith s near to breaking all of the seals, if we aren't there to stop her who will?"

"The angels you nimrod! That's why we now have angel boy and Urinal shipping us off around the country."

"What a bang-up job they've done so far!" Sam shot back, "Dean we have broken more seas that they have. What if this is the last seal Dean? We gonna be responsible for the end of the world, because we 'couldn't be bothered with the air fare'" Dean hmphed indignantly, Sam had made a fair point.

"We desperately need your help. Harry is in danger now more than ever, with Voldemort back at full power. He needs bodyguards who know what they are doing. My Order members are no match for these new demons." Darkness flitted across Albus' eyes, before brightening up again.

"How did this turn from an interrogation into a job interview!?" Dean asked no one in particular. He looked at Sam, who was giving him the full force puppy dog eyes attack. Knowing he couldn't say no to that face, he looked back at Albus, and slumped his shoulders.

"We gonna get paid to look after this kid?" Albus' eyes nearly blinded Dean with their twinkle.

"Of Course Mr. Winchester, of course!" Had the old man been able to, Dean was sure he would start doing the conga in celebration. Sam on the other hand, was doing some sort of victory dance. Dean shook his head, and pinched his brow.

"Call me Dean, if we are now working together. Mr. Winchester makes me feel fifty. I'm assuming, with all your funky mojo, I'll be able to take my car with me? We can't get our equipment through airport security you see." Dean left out the part that they were also supposed to be dead, and wanted by the FBI.

"Not to worry, I have just the thing. I take it that you'll agree to come with us?" Heaving a great sigh, Dean nodded slowly.

"We'll need a few days to gather some things up, provisions and whatnot." Sam added, already planning on what books he would take from Bobby's extensive library.

"Yes, I imagine you will. Where should I meet you then? As preparations need to be made." Dean quickly did the calculations in his head. They were about 5 hours away from Bobby's house, so a round trip would be ten hours…

"Meet us back here in three days, we should have everything we need by then." Dumbledore got up slowly, and walked towards Dean. Tensing slightly, Dean went into a fight ready stance. But Dumbledore only extended his hand for Dean to shake. The said Winchester looked at the hand as if it were an alien creature, before slowly taking it in a form shake. Finally feeling he could trust the man a little he laid down the guns on the bed.

"Good, now then. I must take my leave gentlemen, there are things to be done." Both Sam and Dean felt a swirling sensation again, growing stronger and stronger each second. Dean even counted down the seconds till the old man would pop away.

3,2,1. Pop! Like, clockwork.

"Tell me you weren't the only one that felt that?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"No, I felt it the first time he was here. Which is kind of why I shoved you in the bathroom." Sam made and oh, face. He came and sat down on the bed beside Dean.

"So. Wizards eh? Could out lives get anymore weird?"

"It just did. I hope I haven't made a mistake in agreeing to work with him." Dean said uncharacteristically, hanging his head.

"Hmm, well, who else is going to tells us what's wrong with us?" Sam stated matter-of-factly. During the revealing of Lord Voldemort, questions of their odd problems had completely slipped their minds.

"Well, it's too late now. If we shag ass we can make it to Bobby's by the morning." Sam got up off the bed, and started collecting their meagre possessions. Dean just sat there, contemplating on what the future months would bring.

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**Well, there you have it!! Chapter 4, sorry it took so freaking long, I only have 3 exams left now, so after that expect chapters much more quickly. Please read and review, they mean so much to me. I'll try and answer any questions I can without giving too much away =] If there are any glaring grammatical mistakes please let me know, I'll try to fix them. Loves x x**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Exorcizamus**_

**_Song of the chapter: Guilty Pleasure – Cobra Starship_**

**I don't own Supernatural, if I did Sam and Dean would be topless. Period. Neither do I own Harry Potter; if I did I would own half the world and have designated sleeping days. They belong to Eric Kripke and J.K Rowling respectively. I would also like to thank everyone who has reviewed my story so far! They give me faith that this story isn't a rambling pile of nothing! I especially would like to thank:**

**Winchesterxgirl**

**Nyx Wings**

**And Bomb-o-Maniac.**

**You guys have constantly reviewed, and I would like to give you all massive hugs for doing so!!! :hugs:**

**On with the show!!!!**

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After taking turns at driving the Impala through the dead of night, the Winchesters managed to arrive at Bobby's at around 5 pm the next day. The arduous journey had been silent on the whole, with Sam scribbling a list of book he thought they would need. Most of the titles seemed boring, and full of things that Dean knew, Sam knew already. His brother was a bit of a freak like that. Since Deans time down under, Sam had memorized most of the exorcisms in Dad's journal. Not that he needed them of course, but for back up, Dean liked to think.

"Dean, do you think that they would know Latin?" Sam had asked, about 3 hours into the long drive. He contemplated the answer, thinking back to what Mc Gonagall had yelled at him.

"Didn't you say that the Psycho yelled something like _forget_, at me?" Dean questioned.

"Dean! You can't call her Psycho! If she works for Dumbledore you're going to have to call her by her real name." Sam scolded him harshly. He still hadn't shaken, the in-born instinct, of respect for your elders.

"Alright fine," Dean waved his hand dismissively "I'll call her McGurney till I can figure out what her actual name is. Anyways, I doubt they know enough Latin to hold a conversation. Which is incredibly useful I find." Dean added the end part, with a large amount of pride. John and Bobby had drilled the need for Latin skills from a very young age. The boys were practically fluent now, after Bobby had enforced a Latin Only rule for a whole month, when John was sorting a Wendigo up North.

"They'll need to Dean. Hmm, I just can't believe that their government doesn't understand the concept of things they don't understand."

"Do any governments Sam? Bring along your Latin books, maybe we can have these mofo's singing the Macarena in Latin by Christmas." Sam snorted loudly, images of Dumbledore dancing to the Macarena floating around his head.

"What we gonna tell Bobby, Dean? We can't exactly tell him the truth can we? He'll think we've gone mental." Dean had been dreading this question, for the simple reason that he didn't have an answer.

"We'll tell him what we have to, Sammy." He noted that Sam never corrected him on his nickname, for that he was grateful. He wanted to hold on to the reminder of an innocent, teenage Sam. Even though he knew, that that was long gone now.

Conversation stopped from here on in, both boys thinking about their rather immediate futures. Their thoughts were interrupted however, when the Impala prowled up Bobby's dusty drive. Sam heaved a sigh, and gathered an empty duffle bag from the back seat.

"Let's roll." Dean said loudly, as he threw open the door of the car. He strode purposefully towards the weather-beaten porch, taking long strides, exuding an air of confidence. Sam could tell he was tense, though. His strides were too fast, his neck was tense, and his eyes set firmly on Bobby's door. Most weren't able to see through Dean's mask of indifference, but when you've lived your whole life being never more than looking distance between each other, you tend to notice things like this.

Dean pounded his fist on the door, leaning nonchalantly against the frame.

"Sam, Dean. Good to see you boys." Bobby's gruff voice greeted them, with an underlying current of worry. They hadn't visited in a long while, and he was getting restless with their silence.

"What you boys been up to then? I've got your books over here Sam, don't worry." Bobby could see Sam's eagerness for the new books. He bounced over to the substantial pile of old, musty tomes, on Bobby's already overloaded table.

"Well, the seals have been taking us places." Dean started uneasily, as if unsure of how to proceed.

"We know where Lilith is going next, but we can't tell you. We don't want you to think that we are completely loopy." Dean managed to get out all in one breath. Bobby's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"We'll be off the map for a while. A long while I'm guessing, but we'll keep in touch. This trip could decide this whole celestial chess game, once and for all. It's in England, that's about all I can say." Dean looked imploringly at his father figure, hoping that he would believe him.

"You can call us every night, and tell us how stupid this whole thing is. But we just _can't_ tell you the whole thing, until it's over." Sam brought out the 50-calibre puppy-dog stare, complete with watering eyes. With that, Bobby was helpless.

"You boys are going to tell me everything. And I mean everything when you get beck." Sam just about stopped himself from hugging Bobby senseless, so he opted instead to start thrumming his fingers happily against his arm. Throwing exuberant glances at Dean, who was equally as happy.

"You know we will."

"Hmph. So England you say? I know a hunter, from a few years back,"

"Who don't you know?" Sam said jokingly, practically throwing the tender books into his duffel.

"Yeah, well. He helped your Daddy and me one time. Solid hunter he was, got me out of tighter spaces than I care to think about. Anyway, he's the eyes and ears of the hunters there. They are known for some rather outlandish creatures. Just promise me you'll be careful."

Not wanting him to regret trusting them, Dean mock saluted.

"Sir, yes sir!" Bobby just smirked, and smacked him upside the head.

"I'll tell him you boys are coming over, to get some things ready." He went over to his table and wrote down the guys address on some yellowing, dog-eared paper.

"You know what Bobby? You're the man."

"Damn right son, don't you forget it!" Bobby retorted slapping Dean's chest, the piece of paper hanging on Dean's shirt.

#######~~~~~~#######

(Number 12, Grimmauld Place)

As soon as Dumbledore had landed in the lawn, opposite Grimmauld place. He had marched straight up the stone steps, and opened the door, to a tense household. Everyone was waiting on the news of the 'one that got away' as they affectionately dubbed Dean. He strode straight into the kitchen, and called for an emergency Order meeting. No matter what anyone maybe doing, drop it and get to grimmauld place. Now.

Remus, Tonks, and Hestia had scrambled around, apparating out, flooing, and owling. This is where we find Albus now, sitting at the head of the long, oak table, nursing a pounding headache. A dark figure slid through the door, seemingly oblivious to all the commotion surrounding him.

"Ah, Severus. You don't happen to have a headache cure around do you? I'm afraid a marching band has taking a liking to my brain." Snapes lips ghosted a smile.

"I'll see what I can find professor." He said silkily, as he swept back out the door. People started appearing through the door and fireplace, looking rather flustered at their rapid calling. They placed themselves around the table, looking expectantly at Dumbledore. Confused as to why an emergency meeting had been called. McGonagall raced up the side of the table, and whispered frantically.

"Did you find him Albus?"

"All will be explained shortly, Minerva. I suggest you find a seat before they all go." He answered he smoothly, trying to calm the frantic look in her eyes. She sat down in one of the chairs to his right, wringing her hands nervously.

"If I could have your attention please." His rumbling voice, carried throughout the room. Everyone stopped their whispering, and looked at his with apprehension. Snape came back into the room at this very moment, holding a small vile of clear, blue liquid. He handed it to Dumbledore, who downed it in one. At once his headache disappeared, and linear thoughts could once again start processing.

"Earlier this evening, Professor McGonagall and a group of others, went to the American Ministry. As you are all aware, a new enemy has shown their face. We went to see if our cousins could help us, unfortunately they are as misinformed as we are." His eyes swept the room, watching people's faces.

"As they were apparating out of a secure site, Professor McGonagall here was confronted by a muggle." Shocked gasps filled the room; whispered sentences flitted through the air.

"How! Muggles can't see past the charms!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, covering her mouth in shock

"_Were_ they a muggle? Did they get it wrong?" Kingsley Shacklebolt whispered lowly, to Mad-eye Moody.

"I assure you Auror Shacklebolt, that we did not get it wrong." Dumbledore's stern eyes assessed the man.

"Our Professor here was threatened, with a gun. After a verbal exchange, it was sussed, that one Mr. Dean Winchester, was indeed a muggle. As he seemed thoroughly perplexed at the apparition and wand that Minerva was pointing at him." At this point, the room had gone deathly quiet.

"Knowing that Mr. Winchester had seen too much, Minerva attempted to obliviate him. Her shot was straight and true, hitting Mr. Winchester in the chest, the spell had no effect. He told her she wasn't very nice before shooting her." The table erupted into not so quiet yells, calling for this Dean Winchester to be taken care of.

"_Fortunately_," Dumbledore managed to get out, "she was not harmed in this scuffle. Now knowing the mans name, I sent him a letter, asking if I could meet him and discuss things. As I got there, I came face to face with a heavily armed man, with murder in his eyes. But the power…the power radiating off this man was enormous."

"What do you mean, _power_?" Moody said quickly. Dumbledore thought for a second before answering.

"It felt like the air was sucked out of the room, and there was a pulse that carried through the air. It's hard to explain, until you feel it for yourself." He left the end of the sentence open for interpretation. Though he carried on before anyone could interrupt.

"When his friend appeared behind him, the overall power was too much. I sat down and panicked, I tried to stun Mr. Winchester, but his friend took the stunner, and knocked me to the floor. Still very much conscious, he told me that if I tried that again, I'd be in the afterlife before I could blink twice." Now that there were two unknown anomalies to this story, people exchanged worried glances, not sure of what to say.

"After some talking, I found out that these men hunted, and killed demons." The whispering started up again with earnest. You could practically hear the cogs in Moody's head, clunking away viscously.

"I have made a tentative arrangement, that they come and teach us how to defend ourselves against these new enemies. So I pray, that when they arrive in 2 and a half days time, that you are cautious. As their power is volatile, and having two of these angry men could result in splitting headaches. As I have just endured." He finished with a grimace, rubbing his temples.

"So they're coming here? To Grimmauld place?!" Sirius exclaimed, after remaining silent the whole way through Dumbledore explanation.

"What makes you think that they aren't in league with Voldemort?" a collective shudder ran through the four Weasleys present at the table.

"I saw no Dark Mark on either of them. I guess the reason for their hostility is well justified. The witches they have hunted are, Old Witches. Bound in blood rituals, taken over by dark magiks they can't control." He stroked his snow-white beard thoughtfully.

"He protected his friend very fiercely, I don't know if he noticed, but he always stood in front of him. Never letting me see more that half of him at a time. Something tells me that they are more like brothers, than mere friends." Looking over at McGonagall and some of the other order members, he could see that they still needed convincing.

"These men are, well trained in killing these demons. We can't seem to touch them; beneath it all they are complacent people. I'm sure that if we are welcoming, we should have no problems at all." He looked around hopefully, praying that people would listen to him. Remus, nodded slowly.

"They may be our only chance, I'm willing to take the risk." Bill, Charlie, Molly and Arthur Weasley looked at each other.

"Us too." Slowly, everyone around the table agreed to letting the two men teach them.

"What did you say their names were again?" Sirius asked slowly.

"I believe their names are Dean, and Sam Winchester." Dumbledore replied.

Sirius sighed, and said glumly. "Then lets face the music. I'm In."

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**Hey guys! Quick update eh? I'm totally chuffed with it now!!! I'm able to lengthen my chapters now =] I was halfway through my chapter plan, then realised….This is a good plaace to stop, as I had a whole nother sheet of planning for this chapter. It would have been waaaaay too long and rambling.**

**So read and review guys!!! Some of your answers with be answered in the next few chapters =]**


	6. Chapter 6

Exorcizamus

_Song of the chapter: Stone Sour – Made of scars_

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The neon sign of The Sunset view motel, hummed quietly. The red light it gave off, oozed over the empty parking lot. Coating it, in a thick, cherry haze. As it was only seven in the evening, the sun was spurting out its last rays before the moon took over. Two men stood, stock still, by the trunk of an inky black car. Their stances were wracked with tension, eyes darting every which way. Though nothing seemed to physically change, both men suddenly looked like they'd stepped off a jerking roundabout.

"This better not happen every time they decide to pop in," Sam grumbled, clutching at his stomach where the whirring sensation was emanating. Dean huffed at the rather dismal pun, raking the scarce parking lot like a vulture. Five, four, three, Dean narrowed down possible appearance points, to roughly 5 feet to his left.

Two, One. "Hello, Samuel, Dean."

Albus Dumbledore strode forward, is dark green robes, going surprisingly well with his orange and pink pinstripe waistcoat. Dean nodded stiffly, Sam, a tentative half-smile.

"I do believe," He took a pocket watch from within the folds of his robe "that I have never been that punctual before." He looked immensely proud of himself. "Not one second wasted. How lovely." Pocketing the watch again, he looked at both the Winchesters and clapped his hands together.

"Now then I have arranged a Portkey, to take us to our next destination-"

"Yeah, about that. We've arranged to meet a colleague in the North of Surrey?" Sam looked apologetic, and shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn't know why he was acting so strange, Dumbledore made him feel like he was only 5 years old. Albus' face fell for a second.

"Not a problem my boy, give me the address, and we'll have you there in a trice." His hands dove once again into his robes, withdrawing a small, white (though rather grubby), chipped teacup.

"I don't think we have time for tea, Albus-"

"Oh not at all, I quite agree. But this is a portkey; this will transport us to where your friend is. The address if you would Dean?" He hesitantly handed over Ralph Fleetwood's address. Different scenarios of how this little teacup was going to take them transatlantic, floated through his head. Dumbledore scanned the piece of paper, and then withdrew a long slender piece of wood.

_Must be his wand,_ Sam thought to himself.

"Portus." Dumbledore murmured softly. The teacup shook slightly and glowed a brilliant sky-blue, before settling once again in Dumbledore's palm, looking quite innocent. He set the utensil on the spotless hood of the Impala, and consulted his pocket watch again. Dean noted that there were no numbers, only what looked to be a miniature dial of the solar system. Thoroughly intrigued, he unconsciously stepped closer to get a better look at the peculiar contraption. Dumbledore chuckled mildly; Dean looks of childlike curiosity and wonder, looked out of place on his usually weary face.

"I find that consulting the stars, although considered folly by others, is a spectacular way of telling the time. Maybe you can acquire one for yourself in the future Mr. Winchester, as you seen to be rather taken with my own."

Dean flushed slightly and looked away, unfortunately catching Sam's eye, who was trying not to laugh outright. Dumbledore looked at the timepiece for the last time, and replaced it.

"If you would place a finger on the tea-cup boys, we shall be off shortly."

"Really?" Sam asked, a hint of sarcasm leaking through. Placing a finger on the teacup nonetheless, not wanting to be left behind if this magical piece of cutlery actually did manage, to take them to a different time zone. Dean gingerly placed his index finger on the light blue handle, his train of thought closely behind Sams.

"Really, Samuel. Three, two, one." Feeling as though an enraged werewolf had tackled his midriff, Sam was lurched upwards. His index and middle finger stuck to the evil teacup, as though permanently fused. He felt as though he was riding a rainbow in a hurricane. Again the slight swirling sensation settled itself in the pit of his stomach, though the washing machine motion his whole body was going through dwarfed it. He could see the Impala, though she looked stationary. Dean on the other hand, was going slightly green. His fear of flying not helping. Suddenly, the world righted itself.

If anyone in the sleepy suburban street, had bothered to look out of their curtains, this is what they would have witnessed. A long black muscle car, two young men, and an old man with an impressive white beard and green bathrobe, pushed into existence under the glare of a streetlamp. But of course no one, did. So the muggles of Little Tree, Surrey, slept on peacefully.

Dean's legs were slammed into the ground with incredible force, his knees buckled as he fell onto the hood of the Impala. He looked around for Sam, and found him spread-eagled on someone's front lawn.

"You alright there Sammy?" Dean called, huffing slightly.

"I'm super." He said resignedly, lifting an ok sign with his fingers.

"Well, wasn't that fun?" Dumbledore said, with all too much cheer, Dean thought. A string of none too pleasant curses muttered under his breath, as he shook off the jelly-legs feeling. He wandered awkwardly over to where Sam was still lying, and reached down to lift him up.

"You feel like you've just licked a battery?" Dean paused at the very random question.

"You, hit your head." Dean said rather patronisingly, heaving Sam's bulk up.

"No, Dean, I'm serious" Sam said his drawl more pronounced, as his panic levels began to rise. "It's like when Dumbledore was doing his popping thing, but on crack or something." Dean had thought that the strange, but oddly comforting weight of something but nothing in his torso, was some sort of effect of 'portkey' transport. It licked down his arms, and legs, all the way to his fingers. He had to admit though; he did feel like the Energiser Bunny. He wiggled his arms to get used to the feeling, and gave Sam a look of, we-talk-about-this-later.

"Well, this is your destination boys. I hate to rush you, but my colleagues are waiting for us." Dumbledore's voice was somewhat shakier, and he looked slightly pale. Dean looked ruffled at being told to hurry up, but Sam rushed forward.

"Dumble - Albus, are you ok?" Sam asked, concerned, putting a large hand on Dumbledore's shoulder.

"Quite alright, Samuel." Though he clearly wasn't.

"Please, call me Sam. It's so much easier." He led him to the hood of the impala, were Dumbledore promptly landed.

"It seems to me," he said, "that every time you're exposed to magic, your own dormant magic wakes up a little." He got to his feet, with more purpose than before, and looked intently between Sam and Dean.

"It's not just your magic that's growing either." He said with a slight chuckle. Where Dumbledore was nearly equal to Sam's 6"4 frame, he was now looking almost directly at Sam's neck. Said Winchester now stood at a very intimidating 6"8. Dean instantly checked his height against Sam, but found, to his dismay, that he had grown in proportion. He was still two inches shorter than his younger brother.

"This is a joke." He said with a huff, crossing his arms like a toddler who didn't get his way.

"Your bodies are accommodating your growing powers, I believe we will see the more drastic changes at the beginning, as your bodies will soak up any and all magic's."

"So you mean we could change physically?! Even more than we have!" Dean cried in outrage. Dumbledore just nodded sagely.

"Well, let's hope you guys can help us then." Sam shot, with a pointed look at the wizard.

"Of course Sam, I have the most accomplished wizards and witches in my teaching staff, and im sure that between us we can get to the bottom of this." This seemed to placate a very twitchy Dean, images of him running around with six arms, swimming in his mind.

"Does it affect you? You know, when we get thirsty for magic juice?" Dean asked, putting the dots together in him mind. "We don't take any of your magic out of you do we?" As much as he didn't trust the old man himself, he couldn't bring himself to steal his magic.

"No, I don't believe so." He stroked his shimmering white beard in thought. "It's just when your exposed to magic, your body absorbs it and it sort of unlocks the dams in your own magic. When these dams are let free, the power let out is quite extraordinary. I imagine you would feel quite energised?"

Dean nodded "It's like I've got liquid lightning running through me, feels like I wont need to sleep for a week."

"Don't test that theory." Sam said sternly, knowing full well that Dean would have given half the chance. Dean just held his arms up in surrender.

"Take it easy sasquatch. I wasn't planning to anyways." He eyed his little brother. "We had better not need special clothes for you, cause that will cost a freaking fortune."

"Magic works in wonderful ways Dean, why do you think you aren't being squeezed out of the clothes you're wearing now?"

"True. But my point still stands Bigfoot."

Sam just rolled his eyes. "Thanks for taking us here Dumbledore, we won't be long, an hour at least." Sam smiled gratefully, Dean grunted.

"Well, that is when I'll be back." The whirring in Dean's stomach was now replaced, with a sort of hum, like his magic was vibrating. With a small 'pop', Dumbledore vanished.

"Why's he going to London?" Sam asked.

"To Grimmauld Place, apparently." Dean quipped. An awkward silence fell.

"I think I've reached my download limit on upgrades." Dean said, a weary hint in his voice.

"Ditto."

* * *

"Right, Bobby said Number 6?" Sam said retrieving a piece of paper out of his magically enlarged, back pocket.

"Affirmative. Dude the air _is_ thinner up here! You've been lying to me all these years. I'm hurt" Dean was revelling in his newly gained 4 inches, saying how everyone looks like ants from up there.

"That's cause they are ants Dean, now lets move on before Mr. Dumbledore gets back." Sam said patronisingly, steering Dean to a redbrick house by him elbow.

"Get off Sammy. Will this guy even be awake at 5 in the morning?"

"He's a hunter and anyways Bobby called ahead with a time anyways." Dean made a small 'o' of understanding, and carried on down the gravel path to the house.

"That only took me what 5 steps? That would have been at least 7 before." Sam rolled his eyes again, not wanting to burst his brothers bubble, by reminding him that was in fact, still shorter that him. He reached the red panel door, and rang the bell. He noted that he would have to duck even more, to get through the doorway.

The red oak swung back only seconds later to reveal a relatively short man, compared to the Winchesters recent growth spurt. Sharp, black eyes raked over their faces, from beneath a heavy brow. Curly grey hair, with streaks of black hung to just above his ample eyebrows. He had the look about him, that most seasoned hunters did, and it demanded respect. And you would give it, no questions asked.

"You Bobby's boys?" His American accent was clipped slightly, giving him a noticeable English lilt.

"He sent us, yeah." Dean said warily, looking for the demon traps, or shotgun, usually present when hunters met up. Instead, a slash of ice-cold holy water covered their faces.

"Christo." The man grunted, for good measure. When the men didn't start screaming and smoking, Ralph Fleetwood stepped back grudgingly to allow them access.

"Bobby said I'd be seeing you boys. He had me gather some stuff for you." Ralph extended his arm towards the living room, never taking his eyes off the boys.

"Yes, thank you. We greatly appreciate any help we can get on this one sir." Sam said, he ducked his head to fold through the small, red door. Dean hacked up a cough, which sounded remarkably like 'kiss ass'. Sam glared daggers at him, and followed the seasoned hunter, into his cluttered and dusty living room.

"Looks just like Bobby's," Dean commented nonchalantly, peering over the bookshelves bursting with books. Which were significantly tidier than Bobby's, which resembled a war zone.

"Hmph, that boy learned a lot of things from me. Stacking his shelves wasn't one of them if I remember correctly." Dean just chortled in agreement.

"Mr, Fleetwood is there any information you can give us on Albus Dumbledore, and Hogwarts? Especially one Harry Potter?" Sam enquired tentatively, not quite sure how much Bobby had told the man.

"One, call me Ralph. Two, you boys have gone down the rabbit hole on this one, for sure." Ralph ran his scarred hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. He walked over to a faded red sofa and flopped down, little dust mites pooling out from under him. He indicated that Sam and Dean do the same. Which they tried to do, but with their newly acquired inches, sitting on a low sofa had the result of their knees around their ears.

"How deep does this rabbit hole go then?" Dean asked a little apprehensively. Not sure, whether or not he wanted his answer.

"Deep enough. Harry Potters got the most dangerous Dark Lord in wizarding history after him, with the weight of saving the world from impending doom on his shoulders. Dumbledore's got a secret army to battle said overlord, and has a few sandwiches short of a picnic. And Hogwarts is where it all kicks off, housing the aforementioned hero and crack head. So yeah, you have a pretty deep, trippy, winding rabbit hole to fall down." Ralph drawled, his voice dripping with dark humour. As if the Winchesters predicament, caused him personal pleasure.

"So, um. Do you have any information that could help us along?" Dean asked, with trepidation, dreading Ralph's next answer.

"Watch out for Severus Snape, Dumbledore's pet" Fleetwood said, a dark expression on his face. Dean barely contained his snort at the mans name, really these people had no sense in names.

"I've heard he's quite the tattle-tale, for both sides of this war." Sam looked shocked.

"But Dumbledore still keeps him close?" Dean chocked out.

"Your friend close, your enemies closer, springs to mind." Ralph said with some amusement.

"There not much I can tell you that's not in the books I've got for you boys. Except for, keep your wits about you, and an open mind. Never take anything at face value; the wizarding world is fickle to its core. Make sure you know the truth of what our dealing with." With that sombre note hanging in the air, Ralph went over to a small circular table, with a hiking bag on it. The poor table was groaning, under the weight of the bag.

"In here," Ralph began, heaving the bag off the table, "is the information you'll need to get through the wizarding world without acting like complete numpties." The bag slid off the table and landed with a loud thump, the floorboards creaking wearily.

Dean eyed the bag that had made a dent in the floor. "I'm sure boys of your size, will have no trouble carrying this to the car." Ralph eyed them with amusement.

"Thanks so much Ralph, we'll be sure to get the books back to you." Sam said itching to start reading.

"There's not just books in there, so be careful were you leave it." Ralph said, threateningly. Dean rasied is hand in a salute.

"Scout's honour, sir!" Ralph just gave him a levelled look, before continuing.

"I've had my ear in the wizarding world for quite some time. I've never heard of them even considering approaching normal people for help, let alone hiring them. What's so special about you two?" Sam's heart sped up. What were they going to say? They couldn't just out and say 'well you know we may or may not be the first demon/human/wizard hybrid, with hunter knowledge to boot. Not to mention charming good look…'

"Sam here is a genius with these computer things, you know the ones? Big, shiny, scary things? He's an absolute wizard, pardon the pun." Dean added cutting through Sam's minor panic attack.

"Apparently they needed a complete boffin, to work some magic/techno hybrid. Sam was their man it seems!"

Ralph didn't buy it for one minute, but humoured Dean by looking mildly impressed with the audacity of his downright lie.

"If it's none of my business it's none of my business. No need to sass me boy." Dean just held up his hand in defeat.

"If that's all, we'll get going. Thanks a lot Ralph for the equipment, we'll be sure to bring it back safe. Won't we Dean?" Giving said Winchester a sharp jab in the ribs.

"Like new." Dean piped up, with a cheesy sales-assistant grin on his face. With that Sam, heaved the bulging bag onto his back, and dragged Dean out of the house.

* * *

"My, my aren't we strong Sammy! Or is that just the magic juice? I'm sure you were never this macho before…a flick on the head and you were out for the count. Amazing!" Dean guffawed, putting on his best Dumbledore impression.

"I'm sure you were never this tall Dean, but alas, you're still not tall enough." Sam said patronisingly, letting the bag drop onto the backseat of the Impala. Dean just growled, at the abuse he and his car was getting. Suddenly he froze. His eyes darted from side to side, Sam was wondering what he was doing, but soon realised. The humming of were he assumed his 'magic' was, had started again. Rivers of information coursed through his head. No words were formed but more like feelings and pictures, like the feeling of wisdom and bright colours, representing Albus, and the countdown of seconds. 3, 2, 1.

'pop'

"Hello boys, got what you came for did we?"

"Well that was interesting." Dean muttered darkly. Sam nodded vaguely, hearing but not understanding the question.

"Excellent, we'll be making good time." Albus produced the same dreaded teacup and set it, once again, on the hood of the Impala. Dean visibly paled.

"Not that thing again…"

"Out journey won't be as prolonged this time, Dean. As our destination is but a few hours away." Albus explained, as he tried to placate a clearly agitated Dean.

"Then can't we drive there?" Dean nearly whined, sounding a bit like a five year old.

"Now, where is the fun in that?" Dumbledore said, with a twinkle in his eyes. Sam just rolled his eyes, and placed one of deans protesting fingers to the teacup.

"Come on Sam! Who knows we could end up with four arms by the time we get there!" Dean continued to protest, frantically grabbing at straws. Any reason to not portkey to where they were headed.

"If we don't do it now Dean, then you'll find some other excuse as to why we shouldn't go full stop. And we don't know what's happening to us, these people might. So deal." Dean glared daggers at Sam, thoroughly hating his put down.

"Next stop, head-quarters." Albus informed the men jovially, placing one, slender digit to the cracked rim.

"Three, two one."

Dean swore he was going to kill that jolly old man.

* * *

Well, that was a long time between updates. I'm purposefully stopping it here, cause I have a great urge to write when they meet the Order, and if I stop now, ill want to come back and write it soon. Meaning sooner updates. Win-win situation really.


End file.
